Don Juan
by Ascend With Ivy
Summary: Raoul never loved Christine. Out of desperation he asks for her hand in marriage, and she accepts. But when she starts to regret her decision, nothing good can come of it. SLASH. ErikRaoul
1. Christine's Decision

Author's Note: Introducing the new and (vaguely) improved Chapter 1. I've managed to cringe every time I've reread it and just couldn't continue writing until I had edited it a little. It might not be much better but it helped me regain some of my inspiration for later chapters. I apologize for the long wait between updates and hope that the edited chapters make more sense.

Warning: This story contains SLASH. If you clicked the button, you already knew that. I'm just reiterating for those innocent minds that don't wish to be corrupted just yet.

Pairings:

Erik/Raoul

Christine/OC

Disclaimer: I don't own the book, movie, or play. They all belong to their respective owners. All I own is Jacque. I am not making a dime, nor do I have one to begin with. Good Enough?

Chapter 1: Christine's Decision

Christine quietly entered the room, her expensive gown swinging neatly behind her to avoid the wooden door determined to trap it. A quick glace to the left revealed her fiancé reading calmly in his armchair, barely glancing up to acknowledge her entrance. He knew full well she was having an affair, and continued to do nothing. She sighed dramatically, unsurprised when he gave no response. He never did. Then again, perhaps it was best. The freedom to give her heart to another while retaining Raoul's coveted money and title was nothing to complain about. But it felt wrong. As if she was betraying him somehow, although she had every right to do so. While she loved him like a brother, sometimes he could be so frustratingly stupid. She had agreed to this marriage to protect him, knowing full well he didn't love her in that way, or any other woman for that matter. They had been childhood friends, sweethearts, and she was not blind. She had held her suspicions, and their relationship had ended because he had confessed to her his deepest secret. They had agreed to remain friends and separated for many years; she had forgotten him. Then he had come back, the new patron of the opera house. Hoping to catch up with her, he had invited her to supper. Although she had disappeared with her teacher the first night, he was a persistent man. It was over dinner that he had he had convinced her of his predicament- if his family found out he wasn't about to get married, much less find out he was more interested in men: they would disown him. Family was everything to Raoul and she was obliged to help her friend. Although she had hoped her teacher- her angel- loved her enough stop the engagement, he had not. In fact, he had simply disappeared. He had not been seen or caused an incident in over two months, and she had resigned herself to the fact that she must marry Raoul. They even lived together now, sleeping in separate beds as was proper. It was shortly after she had lost hope that she met Jacque. He was handsome, well mannered, and seemed to express quite a bit of interest in her. Of course, the amount of money his bank account contained had also helped to gain her fancy. She had hoped that if she made it painfully obvious that she was having an affair even before they were married, Raoul would end the engagement. Even in the situation he was in, it was unthinkable that he would stay with an unfaithful woman. Unfortunately, she had been proven wrong. Even with Jacque and her infatuation with the opera ghost, his desperation led him to simply ignore it. Christine did not want to be his wife. Regretting her decision, she contemplated other ways to end it. She could not suddenly break it off with no reason to give to the public- unless... no. She couldn't do that to Raoul. But she was desperate, and Raoul was losing his fame, so he couldn't really give her anything. Jacque could. Her angel could. Not Raoul.

She silently begged his forgiveness, and resolved to do this as painlessly as she could- if that was indeed possible. As guilty as she felt, a smile made it's way onto her face. It was her future or his. And any sane person would choose their own.

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Raoul knew that look. He had seen it many times before; it's foreboding appearance was permanently engraved in his memory. Christine always wore it when she was planning something and, knowing her as he did, it wouldn't be anything good. She was currently regarding him with a such a strange mixture of triumph and apology that he involuntarily slid further back into the chair. Oh, this wouldn't be good at all. He had allowed her to pretend she didn't love the phantom of the opera he supported, then run off to him at night. He had allowed her to have an affair, knowing how much she craved romance. He had offered her a safe marriage with a rich man who was as close as a brother. But it wasn't enough. Christine was fickle, and always wanted more than she had. She was regretting agreeing to help him, and he was regretting asking her. He could have just married some random lady and pretended, but being a gentleman had robbed him of the ability deceive anyone. Unfortunately, he was losing his fame and, secretly, his fortune. He had less and less to offer Christine and she had always put herself before others. And now, she looked dangerous.

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Just to avoid any confusion- this takes place before the masquerade, and after Il Muto. Thanks for reading, and please review. Constructive criticism is always welcome.


	2. Raoul's Flight

Author's note: Yay! People actually read my story! I'm so happy. Anyway thanks to the two people who reviewed- made my day. Anyway, on with the story!

Disclaimer and warning: Read first chapter. They hold true for all of the chapters.

Phantomess13: Actually, that would make a better plot line than what I have, but no. I set this a month before the masquerade, and I have absolutely no patience. I'm not really sure where I'm going with this story...anyway, thanks for the review!

Whatevergirl: Thanks!

Chapter 2: Raoul's Flight

Raoul ran. There was nothing else he could do at this point. He slipped through the streets, trying to avoid the many puddles God had seen fit to torture him with. Although he was unsure of his destination, his feet seemed to have a plan to get away from his pursuers. While he let them lead him, he heard bitter laughter in the air. It took him a few moments to realize _he_ was the source of the heart wrenching sound. He had expected betrayal from Christine, but hadn't realized she could cause this much damage quite so quickly. Being a popular singer had it's advantages it seemed, and she had used her fame to spread lies about him, and worse: the truth. It seemed everyone in Paris now knew his sexual preference, and that Christine had ended the engagement. At the moment he was being pursued by four people who were either against him, or fans of Christine. They were only a few of those who had come after him, as he was reminded by the many scratches and bruises that now adorned his body- courtesy of the...wonderful city folk. He soon found himself in front of the opera house- the one place he had felt safe in this dreadful city. As he started to trip over the stairs, he felt a sharp pain on the side of his head and knew he was caught.

"Lovely evening isn't it, monsieur?" A man twice his size jeered at him. His vision swimming before him, he could do nothing but glare in the direction of the massive blur.

Just as his eyes began to focus, he received a kick to the stomach by a much smaller, but equally as daunting figure.

"It's quite unfortunate you had to be so greedy, or you could be enjoying a stroll with Mademoiselle Daae."

Raoul rolled his eyes at the mention of one of the many lies Christine had concocted- that he had betrayed her with more than one unrespectable young man. Oh, how he wished he had.

"Don't roll your eyes at me, freak!" A sharp blow to his side followed the harsh comment. He was still at a loss as to why so many people were taking this strongly. He supposed it was because of the creative story telling ability of Christine. He had to give her credit: she was clever.

"Monsieur, I think we should take some time to examine who exactly is the freak here. Why take this so personally?" Seizing the chance to escape in their moment of confusion, he continued up the stairs, taking a detour to the side of the building. Monsieurs Andre and Firmin had arrived at the entrance when the commotion started and had done nothing to help him: entering through the front was out. He made his way along the side, hoping there would be another entrance. The phantom Christine always spoke of had to get in and out of the theater somehow, didn't he? The footsteps of his attackers came closer and closer, and he spied a vent on the wall. Upon closer- hurried- examination he found it to be a small opening that had to lead to the depths of the theater. He quickly pried the vent off with all of his remaining strength and fell through just as his pursuers grabbed his cape. The cape ripped as he continued to fall, landing on some hard stone surface. Then darkness overtook him.


	3. Erik’s Confusion

Author's Note: Er, I wrote this when I was really tired, so please forgive me. And about the nose thing...just don't ask. Read at own risk.

Disclaimer: Don't own it. Only thing I own is the lame plot. Yay me.

Chapter 3: Erik's Confusion

The music was awful. Without inspiration, Erik had created what could possibly be the worst opera he had ever written. _Including_ the time he had allowed himself to indulge in the pleasures of alcohol and written a song about Madam Giry's nose. He tried again, but the notes of the organ emitted an awful sound that grated against his ears. Frustrated, he ripped up the latest song he had attempted to write. Damn Christine. When that girl ran into the arms of the young viscount she took with her all his inspiration. How was he supposed to write an opera about passion if he had none? _Don Juan Triumphant_ was getting increasingly worse. Sighing, he started over again. His quill paused over the cream colored page as he tried to envision _anything_ that would get his imagination flowing. Apparently that wasn't going to happen. He groaned as he threw the quill to the floor, about to rip out his own hair. The idiots who ran his opera house had arranged a masquerade which would take place in less than a month, and he planned to deliver his opera to them then. Unfortunately, at the moment he had no opera to deliver. As he bent down to retrieve the quill, he heard the echo of a thump. It wasn't too far away if his hearing was anything to go by, and it definitely wasn't a rat. Grabbing his punjab, he made his way to one of the passages near his private entrance to meet the intruder.

As he quietly ascended the stairs, he heard voices. "Should we go after him?"

"Of-Of course. He deserves more than what he got. You first." The man's voice was full of fear and Erik smirked to himself.

"Are you two crazy!? This is the phantom's lair." A third one.

"Yeah... he's a dead man anyway. We should just leave him."

"You're right. Let's just leave."

Silence reigned for a moment before Erik heard footsteps walking away. He made his way to the top of the stairs, greeted by the familiar stretch of stone that allowed him to get in and out of the vent without landing on anything unpleasant. What was not familiar however, was the man who was currently sprawled on _his_ territory. Apparently, the young viscount had taken it upon himself to make his life a living hell. Erik would have strangled him right there if the man were conscious. With the little light allotted to him by the vent, he could see the viscount was in bad shape. He was oddly reminded of how he had first entered the opera house, seeking sanctuary with the help of Madam Giry. What remained of his heart softened slightly, and he decided to hold off on killing him- at least until it was a_ little_ more of a challenge. After all, aside from the theft of his most promising student, he really had nothing against the man; or hadn't until his trespassing. Growling, Erik realized he was thinking too much about this boy for his own comfort, and swiftly picked him up. With the deadly swiftness he had acquired over the years, he brought the deChagny to his lair; settling him in the bed he had set aside for Christine. Disgusted with himself for helping him, he turned away. Why was he doing this? His mind quickly came to the conclusion that he was looking for a distraction from his failing opera. He briefly wondered why the viscount was here, of all places. If the boy was desperate enough to seek shelter from the opera house and not able to go through the front door, he obviously had nowhere to go.

'Perhaps he could be of use,' the phantom pondered. As much as he hated to admit it, the boy did have a wonderful voice that could be trained and used to test out some of his songs. Horrified at even his consideration of it, he quickly cut off his train of thought. He would get the patron help, and when he was healed would either kill him or send him on his way. More irritated than usual, Erik stalked off to find Madam Giry.


	4. Giry's Troubles

Author's Note: Ok, I had serious writer's block for this chapter, so it's far from the best. Please keep reading the story anyway, hopefully it will get better. I don't know Madam Giry's first name, so I'm just gonna use her last. And sorry if Erik doesn't sound respectful to her, he's still a little... I don't know. Guess he's feeling whatever worrying emotion he has.

Thanks to the people that reviewed, most people don't take the time to. -Glares at non-reviewers- REVIEWS ARE APPRECIATED PEOPLE! Thank you.

Disclaimer: STILL don't own it.

Chapter 4: Giry's Troubles

"Meg, now."

"But-"

"Now."

"I don't see why you can't just deliver them yourself."

Madam Giry smiled as she watched her daughter leave in a huff. Usually Meg was a reasonably obedient child, but at the moment she

was very grumpy. She couldn't blame her: anyone would object to having to deliver letters to the rather foolish managers.

'Ah, the advantages of being a mother,' thought Madam Giry as she settled herself in an armchair. Glad she did not have to deal with

Andre and Firmin, she picked up a book and began to read. Only a few minutes had passed before she heard a voice. Recognizing it at

once, she jumped up and slid back the mirror that resided in her room. Erik just stood there as she took in his appearance. He was

covered in blood and his normally slicked back hair was disheveled. She gasped, and he looked at her curiously.

"Why are you just standing there woman! I need you to come with me."

Ignoring him she asked, "What happened? Why are you covered in blood?"

He looked down at himself and cursed. "It's not mine. It's the viscount's. I need you to attend to him."

It was Madam Giry's turn to look at him curiously. Deciding she would find out what was going on when she got there, she quickly

followed Erik through the passage behind the mirror.

The trip to his lair seemed to take much longer than usual, though it might have been due to Giry's curiosity concerning the viscount.

When they reached the candle lit cavern, Giry quickened her pace. Raoul was lying on the silk sheets of the phantom's extra bed,

looking rather beat up- to put it lightly. Immediately, the woman switched into leader mode, and started tending his injuries, all the while

questioning Erik and ordering his assistance. This did not please the phantom obviously, but he grumpily complied. What seemed to

Erik an eternity, which in reality was only about half an hour, slowly passed and Giry finally silenced.

"That should do it. Now, he will need some time to heal- presumably here?" She glared at Erik, silently daring him to refuse. But Erik

never was one to back away from a challenge.

"No way in hell," he said cheerfully, which was rather out of character for him.

"Erik..."

"No, madam."

"He has nowhere else to go."

"Perhaps back to his dear Christine?" He knew that if the man was here of all places, he probably wouldn't be welcomed with

Christine, but it was worth a shot.

Madam Giry stared at him. "Have you not heard the rumors, monsieur?"

"They are no concern of mine."

"Erik..." She warned.

"Perhaps I did hear a whisper or two, but just stage hand gossip."

"Well, this 'stage hand gossip' is all over Paris, thanks to your student. He must stay here."

Ah, so it was Christine he had to strangle.

"As I said, madam, I care not for his well being and I will not have him disrupting my peace."

"Erik, if it were not for me, you would have no peace to be disrupted. Now I ask this favor, at least until he is healed enough to face the

masses."

And she continued on her guilt trip until he conceded.

"Fine! If it will silence you I agree! But once he is well he is fair game."

"Erik..."

"Are you aware how many times you have said my name in the past hour madam?"

"Erik..."

"Fine!" he said exasperated. "I will give him a head start, _then_ I will hang him."

"That's all I ask." Giry smiled. She had won.


	5. The Phantom's Lair

Warnings: Still going to be slash, in case you forgot. The name of the opera where Erik killed what's-his-face might be wrong: I wasn't really sure about it.

Disclaimer: I think I've pretty much covered it at this point, don't you?

Chapter 5: The Phantom's Lair

Raoul woke up to a sound very few who have been unconscious for three days wish to hear. Harsh notes split through the would-be silent air, their vibration alone sending waves of agony through his already sore body. He tentatively sat up, instantly regretting it as he felt a sharp pain in his head. Determined to stop the awful sound, he simply waited for it to pass and continued on his mission. After what was much to long for Raoul's liking, he managed to sit up fully and look around. To say the least- he was not comforted. He was obviously underground; the only light was cast by the many candles that surrounded the area. Many large objects were draped over with cloth, giving them a daunting look, although the rational part of Raoul's mind suspected they were mirrors. To top it off, the gloomy shore was surrounded by a murky lake; a gondola floating at the edge.

He spared a few more moments to examine the place before spotting an organ, partially hidden from view. Determined to stop the noise, Raoul cautiously stood up. With little trouble he made his way over to the offending instrument, briefly considering that the player would not be too pleased with his demands. He pushed aside the thin curtains shrouding the organ and stopped. He stood still for a moment, as his mind registered that a porcelain mask adorned the player's face. He knew the stories; Christine herself had gone on and on about his appearance- but he had never actually seen the man. Fear filled him as he gazed upon the one they called a monster. This man was capable of murder- the night of Il Muto had proven that. Part of him rationalized that the phantom had taken care of him for some reason; the other told him to run for his life. But he did neither as the opera ghost turned to face him. His breath caught as he saw the counter side of the ivory mask. The phantom's face was beautiful. His eyes- if possible- were darker than his ebony hair and had a way of looking through him. Everything was about him was perfect- the only exception being the side of his face where the mask was placed.. Raoul could see how Christine had become so easily obsessed. It was hard to remember the monster when faced with the man.

He was jerked back to reality as the phantom sneered. Realizing he had been standing there like an idiot, Raoul tried to regain his dignity- or attempt to flee. Of all the questions and fears that ran through his mind, only one comment was able to escape his lips.

"That sounds _awful_, monsieur."

If looks could kill, it would not take the phantom's noose to silence him.


	6. Under the Opera House

Author's Note: Hi! Sorry I haven't updated in a while- I, ever the procrastinator, have been trying to cram finishing all my homework into a couple of days. But, I'm done and now am sadly back in school. As long as the teachers aren't _too_ evil, I should be updating more often. Sorry if this is bad, it was written during extra time in English class and sounds really...cheesy.

Chapter 6:

The insolence of the boy! Erik was on the edge of breaking his promise to Madam Giry, but the viscount just stood there, honesty written across his battered face. What annoyed Erik the most was that he was right. His opera was not getting any better; if anything it was getting worse. Erik stood up, glad to have a few inches on the man. The deChagny seemed to falter for a moment, and lowered his eyes. Erik smirked, and swept past him, careful not to touch the wounded man. He did not care if he caused the viscount any discomfort, he simply didn't want him invading his space any longer than necessary. He paused at his cloak, unsure of wether or not to leave him alone in his home. When he saw the viscount leaning on his organ, he decided against going out.

"Kindly remove your hands from my possessions monsieur, or I shall have to remove them myself."

The man hauled himself off the organ, seeing the dagger that lay within Erik's reach. Erik noticed him falter, still weak from his escapade with God knows what. He rolled his eyes at the stupidity of the boy.

"You should be in bed monsieur. It would not do if Madam Giry were to find you dead from exhaustion. I have enough trouble with that woman as it is."

Erik watched as the viscount meekly complied and frowned. He had expected him to be the kind of man to fight back. Christine had chosen this weakling over him?! Perfect. Just perfect.

The dagger laying on his desk was looking more appealing than ever. The viscount had been there only four days and it was already driving him to more insanity than was normal. DeChagny was recovering much faster then expected, and each day could stand for longer periods of time. Unfortunately, he was also getting restless and his improving ability to walk allowed him to explore the cavern. He even had the nerve to read over parts of the opera Erik had left on the organ. He kept any comments to himself however, having seen the gleam in Erik's eye as he transformed a piece of rope into a noose. Erik could see what parts he disliked or enjoyed however- the fool simply did not have the ability to school his features to hide his emotions as Erik could. He became even more annoyed when the viscount's bruises faded, slowly revealing an angelic face. Unlike his own monstrous features, deChagny's were flawless- radiating light and warmth. He was the exact opposite of Erik- reminding him of everything he could not be. And he hated him for it.

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I am happy to see my begging paid off: I have more to add to the list. Yay! Please keep reviewing everybody! Thanks to: whatevergirl, Come like shadows, Koishii-Kitsune-Akira, Winterlove4, DragonheartRAB, Phantom Fox, and quantuminferno.


	7. Raoul's Discovery

Author's Note: Ok, apparently I lied when I said I would be updating more often. The homework has been piling up and I have the highschool entrance exam in two weeks. Sorry about the wait. This one's reeeally short, but I am posting two of them tonight to make up for it.

Disclaimer, warnings, etc.: I believe I've covered that already.

Chapter 7:

Raoul stood looking at the newest piece of music the phantom had written. He pretended not to notice the glare sent his way and hoped his face would not betray his emotions. The latest addition to Don Juan was actually decent, thought the melody was filled with hate. Not to mention one of his favorite characters had been killed off. He wondered vaguely if the phantom was trying to tell him something. A new character had taken it's place- a girl this time. The girl became more and more prominent in the opera, the solos getting increasingly beautiful. It was obvious this character was meant for Christine. Oddly enough the play, originally a dark drama, was slowly becoming a love story. The love was focused on passion, mind you, but it was full of romance nonetheless. The newest song written was called "The Point of No Return." So far only a line of the lyrics was written, but the notes were laid out, and were so enchanting Raoul wanted to sing. He had to keep his mouth shut however- the phantom would not appreciate his untrained voice ruining the music. He wished he could hear a voice though... the phantom never spoke unless it was to threaten him or he was singing parts of Don Juan. Raoul was raised to be social- the duties of a viscount surrounding him with people. The silence was unnerving, and the obvious madness of the phantom was not helping matters. Raoul could see why he was deranged however; he was about to go insane himself. Trying to keep his mind off the unusual silence, he began exploring for what must have been the millionth time. There were a few covered items, and Raoul was itching to know why lay behind them. Becoming bolder, he waited until the phantom's attention was focused on a letter and quietly uncovered the first object. To his disappointment, all that he found was a mirror. And another. And another. Each displayed the same handsome face he had possessed all his life; the only flaw being a cut above his eye. He turned to the last curtain. A mirror. Why must the phantom have so many of the blasted things! It wasn't as if he ever used them. He quickly recovered them and turned to a curtained area not far away. Hoping it wasn't simply another mirror, he pulled back the curtain. This time he came face to face with Christine.

Once again... thanks to my reviewers! You have no idea how little of a life I have and I love reviews. Thanks to: Phantom Fox, White Sherry, whatevergirl, Ravenchan, Seylin, Koishii-Kitsune-Akira, and psychonerd 5.


	8. Erik's Discovery

Author's Note: Yay for the second one. I typed these one after the other so sorry if it's kinda half-assed. And I would just like to share my happiness that we are finally reading decent books in English! No more War of the Worlds for me. Lately we've read The Pigman and The Outsiders, both of which I totally recommend. Even though the rest of my class hated the Outsiders. Guess they didn't see it as slashy as I did : ). Anyway, sorry for my rambling...again.

Disclaimer: War of the Worlds was written by H.G. Wells, The Pigman was written by Paul Zindel, and The Outsiders was written by S.E. Hinton. I don't know if I'm allowed to recommend them, and I didn't mean to put any of them down, I just didn't really enjoy War of the Worlds. It had a great meaning though.

Chapter 8: Erik's Discovery

Erik watched as the viscount examined his latest pieces, frowning when he came to a character death. Erik smirked to himself- he had known the boy liked that one. He continued gazing absentmindedly at his perfect face drawn in concentration. DeChagny began to hum unconsciously, oblivious to the fact that he was doing it. Even in humming the boy's voice held so much potential, and Erik began to wish he had been his student instead of the fickle Christine. He stopped his potentially dangerous thoughts, and focused on a letter to the managers, once agin reminding them his salary was due. He heard the viscount's quiet footsteps as he wandered towards his covered mirrors. There was the unmistakable sound of rustling cloth, however cautiously removed it was. And again. And again. Apparently the vain viscount couldn't restrain himself from gazing in EVERY SINGLE ONE of his mirrors. He heard silence for a moment before the mirrors were recovered. If deChagny thought he could freely examine his possessions and disturb his peace, he had another thing coming. As he turned to yell at him, he saw the viscount reaching to uncover his model of Christine. The manakin was wearing a wedding dress, and was the carbon copy of it's living counterpart. Erik sometimes wondered why he had it, if perhaps he truly was insane. Christine was an odd obsession of his, due only to the fact that she confused him. He was unsure of whether to view her as a student, daughter, friend, or lover. It was this confusion that made him want to spend more time around her. Erik had never been in love. Sure, he had watched people from the shadows with a lust filled gaze, and like every man had passionate dreams, but he had never known what it was like to love and be loved. Or that there was such a thing. He was jerked out of his thoughts by the viscount, who had opened the curtain. He was confused for a moment as to why the viscount was standing so still, but then suppressed a snort as he realized the idiot thought it was the real Christine. Well, it _was_ very realistic. He was still a moron. Seeing deChagny was about to either pass out or strangle the manakin, Erik jumped up and went to him. Apparently, the deChagny was in a daze, confused as to whether she was real or not, or if he should stab her or cry. It made Erik wonder what Christine had done to him in the past. There was no time for that as Raoul stumbled, and Erik reached out to catch him. If the viscount where to injure himself it would not be good for either of them. As he wrapped his arms around the golden haired man, Erik could only think of how right it felt.


	9. Interlude

Author's Note: Hey! Im sooo sorry I haven't updated in a while- life has been hell and I was suffering a severe case of writer's block. I'd like to say thank you to my wonderful reviewers and apologize for this chapter as I haven't written in a while and need to get back into the story. It's you guys that finally pushed me to actually WORK.

Chapter 9: Interlude

Raoul stared at what he believed to be Christine- contemplating whether to rid himself of her presence quickly or draw the would-be murder out. However, he noticed that she had yet to blink. His eyes traveled down the body as he realized his mistake. Trying hard not to blush, Raoul now thought of ways to make it seem as if he had known all along, as the phantom was certain to be watching by now. Deciding to act as if nothing had happened, Raoul stepped away from the manakin, mind focused on retrieving the cloth that had covered it. In his haste he didn't notice the loose stone just behind him. Time seemed to slow as he cursed the Fates for taunting him so, and he prepared for the most humiliating fall of his life. As he braced himself for the impact, he found it never came. Instead, strong arms encircled his waist, preventing his unpleasant descent onto the cold stone surface. It took his mind a minute to register that the warmth against his body came from a man. Or monster rather. The only person who could have caught him was the phantom. He really had no qualms with him- but the rumors were hard to forget. Not to mention he knew from personal experience that the phantom was, at best, slightly unhinged. He knew his 'savior' was a monster, so why did this feeling of contentment arise as the masculine arms held him? Oh, this wasn't good at all.


	10. A Question of How

Author's Note: I am soooo sorry. Here I was, all set to update more often, and I got lazy. Thanks to all of my wonderful reviewers, and I really hope I can work more on this story. To make up for my lack of length and updates (and quality if I'm honest) I'm posting two chapters today.

Chapter 10: A Question of How

Erik simply stared as Raoul leapt from his arms, obviously not as shocked as he had assumed. He tried to make sense of what Raoul was saying; which seemed to fit thanks, apologies, and rather foul language concerning mannequins into one miraculous sentence. He dismissed it with a wave of his hand and quickly turned his stare into an icy glare. Angry at himself for losing his concentration for even a moment, he turned; making sure his robes flared elegantly, as was fitting for a phantom. He stalked to his organ and started playing as if nothing had happened, making it Raoul's turn to stare. Any uncomfortable silence there might have been was prevented by the haunting melodies he produced, and soon the tension eased. Thus, the day passed only mildly eventfully.

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It had been three days since Raoul's encounter with the mannequin, making it two since they had spoken. As Erik pondered this, he wondered when the man-boy!- had become 'Raoul.' It didn't matter anyway, as Erik didn't need to worry about slipping up if they did not speak. At any rate, after the incident Raoul had been less eager to explore; something Erik was eternally grateful for. In its place, singing had become his source of amusement- whenever Erik was out or he thought he wasn't listening. Therefore, Erik only caught brief notes before Raoul became aware of his presence. The potential of his voice only added to the chaos that was Erik's mind. As he tended to be a bit, _eccentric_, when a thought entered his head, it was damn near impossible to get it out. And now his traitorous head had decided to teach Raoul to sing.

Now there was only the matter of how.


	11. The Answer

Author's Note: And the next one. I promise there'll be slash coming soon! Oh, and does anyone know if we're allowed to respond to our reviewers separately in the chapters? I remember reading somewhere that we weren't...

Chapter 11: The Answer

It was unnerving. After three days of being ignored, Raoul was now the center of _very_ unwanted attention. The phantom had been watching him like a hawk; unreadable thoughts flitting across eyes until they were overshadowed by a predatory gleam. The process had repeated quite a few times, so it was only natural that Raoul took a step-or five- back when the phantom finally came forward.

"Monsieur, I'm afraid I can no longer allow you to read my play."

WHAT! That was his only source of entertainment in this godforsaken _cave_. How dare he try to take it away! Occupied with his thoughts, an aghast Raoul missed the evil grin flashed in his direction for barely a second before it was hidden once again beneath the phantom's schooled features.

"I don't understand."

Damn right he didn't understand. And the phantom better explain before he took a leaf out of his book and hung the bastard. A small part of Raoul's mind said he was being irrational, that it was just a play. But the rest of his brain prevailed, not wanting to loose it's only stimulant in this cage.

"I never was one to give previews of my work, and you deChagny, are no exception. Unlike _Christine_ you make no contributions..."

"Well what can I do!"

The reminder of Christine stung, but he tried not to let any emotions escape onto his smooth face. If there was one thing he had learned from the phantom, it was to never let your feelings show. As he battled with his features, he watched the phantom think. Or rather, pretend to think.

"I suppose I could use another voice to work out the duets..."

"I'll do it."

It registered dimly in his brain that this was probably a trick, or at the very least a way to humiliate him, but he was far too concerned about losing the only thing that kept him sane.

The phantom raised an eyebrow.

"Then I guess you'll have to do."

It really was a shame Raoul could not see the future, or at the very least read minds, or he might have heard the unspoken part of that sentence. 'You have no idea what you're getting yourself into.'


	12. Lessons

A/N: I'm...sorry. Soooo sorry. I really need to stop promising things- it just makes me feel bad. I'd like to blame the long break on being busy... but part of it was just laziness. Thanks to all the people who reviewed- I'll be sending personal responses to those for the next chapter. I really appreciate those who have stuck with me- I'll try hard to get the chapters out sooner. Flames welcome- I need a good laugh.

Shameless advertisement: For those of you who wanted Raoul to strangle the Christine mannequin in the earlier chapter, I wrote a one shot called 'Noise and Kisses.' It has nothing to do with this story, but I wanted karma to finally catch up with Christine.

Chapter 12: Lessons

Fingers slammed down on the innocent keys, the organ emitting an angry groan as it took the brunt of his frustration. Ignoring the glare directed at him, Erik ripped the music from Raoul's hands- quickly scanning it.

"What in God's name were you _singing_?"

"Exactly what you told me to _monsieur_."

"That...noise... was not an F Sharp!"

"Well do excuse me for lacking the ability to reach notes THAT CANNOT POSSIBLY EXIST!"

"Don't be stupid, of course they exist."

Raoul resumed his glaring; muttering profanities Erik was not entirely sure a viscount should know. His only response was a raised eyebrow- daring Raoul to start another argument. For five days they had engaged in the same fight- Raoul being unwilling or unable to reach the high notes of the woman's part, and Erik completely refusing to sing them himself. Raoul would demand the phantom sing at least half the women's parts if he was so insistent on making him help with the duets, and Erik would rather rejoin that hell they called a gypsy circus than back down. One thing always led to another and Raoul would storm off, his pale face flushed with anger. Although the redundant arguments wasted valuable time, Erik secretly enjoyed angering the viscount. Unfortunately, it was not to gloat over his lack of wit. Erik would watch in fascination as the viscount's breath quickened, lips parting as he tried in vain to come up with a suitable comeback. His eyes would sparkle above the blush brought forth from anger; hands repeatedly running through the smooth locks that lay atop his head- completing his disheveled appearance. The first time Erik realized his close attention to each detail of this, his confusion overrode his judgement and he had avoided Raoul the rest of the day. The erotic dream later that night did nothing to help his cause. Despite the overwhelming evidence of his growing attraction, Erik finally resolved to blame it on exhaustion. Of course, the slow return of his emotions never stopped him from being his usual bastardly self, and he was confident Raoul did not suspect.

And so they fought. But Raoul would always return, boredom forcing his hand when he shuffled back; head bowed as he mumbled a grudging apology. It was one of the rare times Erik was glad there were few ways to amuse oneself in the lair. It was quite a while before he noticed Raoul had stopped mumbling and was looking at him strangely. Mentally shaking himself for letting his mind wander, Erik brought his attention back to the present.

"What!" he snapped.

Raoul rolled his eyes and went back to glaring. Well, two could play this game. After a short glaring contest which Erik easily won, Raoul seemed to surrender. Smirking at his victory, Erik gave a small consolation prize.

"Fine. We can work out the lyrics for this song- it's lower"

He pulled out his latest song, 'Point of no Return,' glancing over the single line of lyrics that stood out sharply against the worn parchment- mocking his lack of creativity. He had never had quite this much difficulty coming up with lyrics to match the music, and it annoyed him to no end. Which brought him to his last resort- deChagny. He steadfastly clung to the small hope that the man would have an idea, however in vain it might have been. He was not one to ask for help, but his desperation led him to the next best thing. He watched in silence as Raoul examined the sheet, lips pursed in thought. Erik's concentration wavered as his thoughts strayed to wonders of what those lips would taste like pressed against his own. He was used to taking what he wanted- but all too familiar with rejection. The viscount was not some ornament he could steal from the witless managers; he was a man. A man who's romantic history involved _women._ Well, one at least. And of course, it just wasn't natural to want other men. His twisted features already highlighted the difference between himself and others, it would only make sense that he was a freak when it came to emotions as well. No one was like him. So, he would wait. Raoul would find enough courage and health to go back into the light, and Erik would once again be left in solitude. That was the way things were; the way they should be. It was for the best. It was what he wanted. Really, it was.


	13. Confrontation

He was doing it again. Raoul's concentration on the piece before him wavered as he felt eyes burn once again into the back of his head. For days now the phantom had been watching him- looking away whenever Raoul started to notice. It was driving him insane. Unsure whether to confront him or simply pretend nothing was wrong, Raoul began to avoid the opera ghost. An extremely difficult feat when one only has so much room to run. To make things worse, the dark man was getting depressed. The very air grew heavier when he was around, and he frequented the cave less and less often. They had made no progress on the "Point of no Return," and Raoul had a sneaking suspicion the phantom didn't even have a plot for it. Finally, when the phantom came back to sulk for a short while, Raoul steeled himself for confrontation.

"What's the matter with you?"

The phantom looked up as Raoul made his way over, ruined boots making soft clicking sounds on the stone floor.

"It would be appreciated, my dear viscount, if you could elaborate."

"You've been sulking for days! You hardly ever talk to me, and when you do it's to lecture."

"I wasn't aware that I had to entertain you deChagny. Need I remind you, you are in _my_ home and may leave any time you wish."

Raoul stopped his pacing, debating whether to apologize or storm out just to spite him. It was true- he was living off the courtesy of the phantom. In his weakened state he would not last three days on the streets of Paris, but he _was_ well enough to walk away.

"That is beside the point."

The phantom gave him a pointed look. "Oh?"

"Well... I cannot leave a man so volatile alone in a state like this. People will blame me if someone gets hurt."

"Oh really?"

_No._ Raoul's logic betrayed him. No one knew he was here, and he was already in danger. The fact remained- he was afraid to leave.

"Just tell me what's wrong!"

"It's none of your damn business deChagny!"

"Yes it is!"

"No, it. Is. _Not_."

"Yes it is!"

"I refuse to stoop to your level and fight like a child. If I do not wish to tell you, then it would be in your best interest to leave well enough alone."

"So you admit you're depressed then."

"You are terribly infuriating. However did you manage to survive in polite society?"

"Charm and good looks. Now you have to answer my question."

"Do shut up."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

The phantom gave him a glare to rival all those previous.

"You really want to know."

It was not a question, but Raoul answered anyway.

"_Yes_." The exasperated tone did nothing to help his cause.

The phantom stood, cloak waving slightly before settling back around his shoulders. It was then that Raoul realized just how much taller the ghost was.

"You will regret asking me."

"No I won't. You may hate it, but you're stuck with me. Consider it a step towards repaying my debt."

The phantom took a step closer, eyes clouding with an unidentifiable emotion. Raoul waited, but silence was his only response.

"Just tell me!"

The phantom's eyes narrowed and in one swift motion he had pinned Raoul up against the wall.

"What are you-"

He was soon cut off by the phantom's lips. It was only a few seconds before he started to respond. Silky lips met chapped in a demanding and awkward kiss. Hands traveled across his chest, causing Raoul to emit a quite embarrassing moan. Grateful for the solid wall behind him, he sunk into the kiss. He only managed one coherent thought before his mind shut down completely.

_So that's what it was._

------------------------------

_Oh shit._ Erik had just kissed the object of his desire, giving no thought to the consequences sure to follow. But, surprisingly, Raoul had kissed back. Erik decided that it was due to lack of... _stimulation_ in this prison. Raoul was alone and unable to partake in the pleasures enjoyed by many of the attractive rich men in the city. It was only natural that he respond to the contact he had so long been deprived of. After all, what else could it be? He pulled away quickly, running a hand through his hair in a rarely displayed act of nervousness. Walking away as fast as dignity would allow, he missed the far from innocent look Raoul directed at his person. He left the underground sanctuary with only one thing in mind.

_I believe I've discovered what the point of no return is. _

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Yeah, such a long time between updates, such a crappy chapter. I'm really trying to write this- but inspiration has left me altogether. I'll try to finish this (and make the chapters longer hehe) but my procrastination is out of control.


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